


Date Night

by littleliontree (gentledusk)



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: First Dates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1262308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentledusk/pseuds/littleliontree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Augustine just wants Lysandre to spend the night out with him at one of Lumiose's finest cafés. It's not a date. Not at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sycamore sets up a date for him and Lysandre at one of the fancy cafes in Lumiose but wants it to be a surprise. He insists that Lysandre be available to hang out with him that night, but Lysandre, thinking it's not important, keeps saying he has work to do. Sycamore has to figure out how to get Lysandre to come on the surprise date without revealing what it is.
> 
> For raulgonzalezblanco7
> 
> Alternately: how many restaurant date clichés can I fit into one fic? Thank you to Vergess for the list you gave me!

“Lysandre, are you busy tonight?”

“I have a lot of work to do, Augustine,” says Lysandre, not looking up from the papers in front of him.

“But, Lysandre—”

“No buts, Augustine.”

“Aww, come on, please?” says Augustine, putting on his best puppy-dog eyes and jutting out his lower lip into a pout.

“…Augustine, you know that’s not going to work on me.”

“You should get out more, my friend!” he says, switching to his ‘concerned best friend’ voice. “You’re always working so much, cooped up in the labs or hunched over your desk here. You should go out into the city, relax a little! Have a walk or go out to a restaurant or something!”

“You’re one to talk about being cooped up in the lab,” Lysandre says, finally looking up from his desk to stare at him over the top of his spectacles.

Mmm, those reading glasses really do suit him. Make him look ‘distinguished’ and all that. Not that he would ever tell Lysandre that. Well, maybe. If he can succeed in _somehow_ managing to get Lysandre away from his work and out with him tonight for the totally-not-a-date he’s arranged for them. Perhaps taking those reservations that Diantha had offered had been a bit too optimistic? No, he can’t let Lysandre’s reluctance to take a night off put him down. Lysandre really does need a break, and hey, a night out with some good food and company is a great way to relax. Now if only he can find some way to convince Lysandre to come without spoiling the surprise.

“I know, I know, that’s why I’m asking you to come with me!” he says. “Aren’t you always telling me to take breaks too? And now I’m telling you to take one! So you can come out with me tonight, and we can both take a break! It’s win-win!”

“Some other time,” Lysandre says, looking back down again. “This is important, I have to finish it as soon as possible.”

“This is important too!” he protests, rubbing his forehead in frustration. Why does Lysandre have to be so stubborn? Though he supposes that tenacity is one of the things he likes about him…

“I can take a break when I’m done.”

“No, no, it has to be tonight!” he blurts out, clapping a hand over his mouth when he realizes what he’s just said.

“Why?” asks Lysandre, arching a brow at him. “Is there something special about tonight?”

“Yes! I mean, no! Nothing in particular! I mean…” Lysandre is looking at him oddly. To hell with it, then. “I just…want to spend some time with you,” he says honestly, avoiding Lysandre’s eyes. “Just…take some time off, just for tonight? I won’t bother you about it again for the rest of the week, I promise. Please?”

“…Very well,” Lysandre says eventually.

“Great! Good! Meet me at Rouge Plaza at seven, yes? See you there!” And with that, he scurries out before Lysandre has a chance to rethink his agreement.

~

Augustine just barely resists the urge to check his watch for the third time since he’d arrived. Sure, it’s not quite seven yet, but Lysandre is nowhere to be seen. It’s not like Augustine could miss him either, what with his bright and distinctive Pyroar mane of hair. Instead, he fiddles with his clothes. They’re not _fancy_ clothes per se, since this is definitely not a date, not at _all,_ but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t taken more care with his appearance than usual while getting dressed for this evening.

“Good evening, Augustine,” says a low voice in his ear, and he definitely _does not_ shiver at the warm breath on his skin.

“You came,” he says, finally giving in and glancing at his watch again. Seven o’clock on the dot. He hopes he doesn’t sound too relieved.

“Of course I did,” Lysandre says, as if the very idea of him going back on his word is inconceivable.

“Right, right, of course. Just like you said you would!” he says, laughing nervously. Lysandre is looking at him oddly again. He should probably shut up now. “Well, then, let’s go, shall we? Allons-y!” Without really thinking about it, he offers his arm to Lysandre.

“I presume, then, that you have an actual destination in mind, and are not just looking to wander aimlessly through the streets of Lumiose?” Lysandre says, taking the offered arm.

Augustine flushes. He hadn’t really been expecting Lysandre to take his arm, he’d just offered it instinctively. Yes. Well. Onwards, then.

Lysandre makes no comment when they arrive at the café. Augustine had spent the entire walk there trying to read his thoughts about this whole thing, but his expression had been as serious as usual. He’d been distracted by their linked arms and the proximity of Lysandre’s body to his own, but he isn’t going to think about that now.

“Sycamore,” he says to the receptionist as they enter the café. “Table for two.”

“Right this way, sirs,” says the receptionist, leading them to a table near the back of the café. It’s…secluded, almost, or as secluded as one can be in a restaurant. Augustine wonders if this is a good or a bad thing.

“Charming place,” says Lysandre, glancing at the candle and single red rose on their table as they sit down. “Is this why you were so insistent on getting me to come out, then?”

“Y-Yes,” says Augustine, panicking a bit over the candle and rose. Does every table have those? Or is it just theirs? “I…I just thought it would be. Nice. To, to spend a night out with a friend and some good food?”

Lysandre merely smiles at him, picking up the menu, and while his face is hidden Augustine quickly glances around the café. There are other tables with candles and roses. In fact, most of the tables have candles and roses. Oh Arceus, is practically everyone here on a date? There’s even violin music playing, for heaven’s sake! What if Lysandre gets the wrong idea? What _is_ the right idea anyway?

“Have you decided what you’re going to have, yet?” Lysandre asks, setting down his menu. Apparently Augustine had taken so long worrying about the venue that Lysandre has already decided what to eat.

“I…” he says, just as a waiter comes up to their table.

“May I take your orders?” asks the waiter.

“I’ll have the filet mignon with a Cabernet Sauvignon, please,” says Lysandre, handing his menu to the waiter.

“Very good, sir. And for you, sir?” he says, turning to Augustine.

“I…” he says, panicking slightly again. He has no idea what’s on the menu, as he hadn’t even had a chance to look at it due to his worrying. Frantically, he gestures at Lysandre, hoping that somehow he’ll get the message to do…something. Why is he even panicking so much, anyway? It’s just _ordering_ , it shouldn’t be that hard…

“He’ll have the bouillabaisse and the rosé,” Lysandre says smoothly, handing Augustine’s menu to the waiter as well.

“Very good,” says the waiter, not missing a beat. “Your food will be with you shortly, sirs.”

Augustine restrains himself from smacking himself in the forehead and sighs. Just what has he gotten himself into?

~

The rest of the dinner goes smoothly, for the most part. Lysandre takes no notice of Augustine’s awkwardness and soon they begin conversing as usual, though Augustine makes more of a conscious effort to try steering the topic away from work. Maybe his plan really is working out all right.

“How’s your bouillabaisse?” Lysandre asks, sipping delicately at his wine.

“It’s-it’s very good, thanks. Thank you for choosing it for me, I…I just didn’t know which dish to choose from, I suppose,” he replies, cursing himself as he stumbles over the words.

“I’m glad,” says Lysandre, quirking his lips upward into a small smile, and oh, he’s not a teenager anymore, he shouldn’t be this captivated by such a little thing, Lysandre smiling at him, but it’s not like it happens particularly often so he thinks he can be excused.

Augustine suddenly wonders, self-consciously, if he’s been eating neatly enough, if he’s been drinking his wine at the appropriate pace, if there’s any food on his face…Just in case, he dabs at his mouth with his napkin and takes a small sip of his wine. He can’t stop himself from staring, though, at the way Lysandre’s throat bobs as he takes a sip of his wine as well…and then he coughs, sputtering, setting his wine glass down and putting a hand to his mouth.

“Are you all right?” asks Augustine.

“There’s something…” Lysandre begins, lowering his hand and staring at whatever he’s got in it. “A…ring?”

“A what?” he says blankly.

Lysandre wipes his hand with his napkin and extends his arm across the table. And indeed, just as he’d said, there is a small, silver ring in his hand.

“I appreciate the gesture, Augustine, but don’t you think you should ask me on a few more dates, first?” Lysandre says, looking amused.

“I…wha…that’s not what I…I didn’t…that’s not mine!” he stammers, waving his hands about frantically. “I didn’t do it! I have no idea where that came from! You’re…you’re getting the wrong idea here!”

Lysandre lets out a full-bodied laugh, and even through his embarrassment Augustine can’t help but enjoy the moment, enjoy Lysandre laughing out of sheer amusement. A laugh, a _real_ laugh, from him is even rarer than his smile, and Augustine wants to make sure he’ll remember every minute of it, even if it is at his own expense.

“Terribly sorry, sirs, but there was an unfortunate mix-up involving the wine…” says a different waiter, looking very flustered, rushing up to their table. Lysandre holds up the ring. “Ah, yes, I see you’ve found the surprise…it was meant to be a proposal for that couple over there, by the window, but I’m afraid we have put a knot in the poor gentleman’s plans for tonight…once again, terribly, terribly sorry!”

“It is no trouble,” says Lysandre, handing the ring over to the poor waiter. “Though I imagine the couple by the window is rather more ruffled by this turn of events.”

“Yes, yes of course. Thank you, sir!” And with that, the harried waiter bustles away, presumably to the couple by the window.

“I told you I didn’t do it,” Augustine says, almost sulkily.

“I’m wounded, Augustine,” Lysandre says drily, pressing a hand to his chest. “And here I thought you were proposing to me. How terribly heartbreaking this night has become for me.”

“Stop it,” he says, giggling a little despite himself. Lysandre smiling, laughing, _and_ joking? This night may not be a total loss after all.

“I cannot even begin to describe the pain I am feeling in my heart at this very moment,” Lysandre continues with a completely serious face. “Tonight I have been spurned by Augustine Sycamore, the ‘most eligible bachelor in Lumiose’. How will I ever recover?”

Augustine, at this point, is laughing so hard that he ends up spilling what’s left of his wine on his shirt. Oh perfect, just perfect. He really should have put his wine glass down before Lysandre decided to start with his particular brand of dry wit. What is he going to wear now? It’s not that cold out tonight, but he can hardly go parading about without a shirt, now, can he?

“Come with me,” Lysandre says, grabbing the salt shaker and pulling Augustine up out of his chair. “Cold water and salt for wine stains, and then you can wash it properly when you get home.”

Well, trust Lysandre to know these sorts of things. Dutifully, he sprinkles salt onto the stain, then runs cold water over it once they get to the washroom.

“I suppose I’ll be wearing a wet shirt home, then,” he sighs, squeezing the water out of said shirt. It was a nice shirt too, he thinks mournfully. He hopes the stains really will come out.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” says Lysandre briskly, wetting a paper towel and swiping it over Augustine’s bare chest. “I have a perfectly good jacket that I can lend you. It may be a bit too large, but it will keep you sufficiently covered.”

“O-Oh, well, I…” he stammers, trying his best not to shiver as Lysandre wipes the sticky, drying wine off his skin. Shouldn’t he be the one doing that? If Lysandre had wanted to help, he could have taken the shirt, while Augustine could have been the one wiping himself off. Not that he’s complaining really, but…the situation probably would look rather compromising to anyone who happens to walk in. Lysandre either doesn’t notice this, or doesn’t care one whit about what other people think. Or maybe it’s a combination of both?

“Here,” says Lysandre, slipping off his jacket and holding it out to Augustine, taking the wet shirt from his slightly trembling hands.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, putting it on and attempting to hide his blush behind the fuzzy fur collar.

“Well, then, let’s get back to dinner, shall we?”

~

The rest of the dinner goes rather uneventfully, save for some more internal flailing by Augustine when the waiter assumes there will be only one bill. Lysandre cuts in before he can protest, agreeing with the waiter and paying when the bill comes. He knows Lysandre is much more well-off than he is, but really, he can pay for himself! Besides, he’d been the one who had asked Lysandre out…not in a date sense! In a going-out-as-friends sense! If anything, he should be the one paying…what is the proper etiquette for not-dates with friends at restaurants, anyway?

“Well, that was certainly an interesting evening,” Lysandre says as they walk along the streets. It’s a beautiful night tonight, all clear skies and the glittering lights of Prism Tower shining in the distance, with what few bright stars they can manage to see in the city twinkling overhead.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asks hopefully. Maybe sometime during the evening, despite all his clumsy flailing, Lysandre had found some amusement?

“Yes,” Lysandre says, looking just as handsome in his crimson dress shirt as he had in his black tailored jacket. The black tailored jacket that Augustine is currently wearing.

“I’m glad,” he says simply, hiding his face in the fur collar once again.

“So,” says Lysandre, smirking at him, “was that a date?”

“Was-was that…what?!”

“Was that a date,” he repeats.

“N-No, I…w-why would you think such a thing?”

“Augustine,” he says patiently, “you are good at many things, but apparently this does not seem to be one of them. Surprising, really, for ‘Lumiose’s most eligible bachelor’. You inivited—no, _insisted_ I come out with you tonight, surprising me with dinner at one of the finest cafés in Lumiose. There was a candle and rose on our table.”

“Those were on every table!” he protests weakly.

“There were _violins_ playing in the background. You spent most of the evening staring at me—yes, I noticed, Augustine, don’t even try to deny it—and you got very flustered whenever there was some person or situation that implied we were on a date. If you weren’t so invested in tonight, you would have just laughed it off like you usually do. Am I correct?”

“…Yes,” he whispers, cheeks burning as he burrows his head further into Lysandre’s coat. He wants desperately to deny it, but he knows Lysandre wouldn’t believe him, anyway. He may as well admit the truth, both to Lysandre and to himself.

“Good,” says Lysandre.

“G-Good?”

“Yes,” says Lysandre, a predatory grin spreading across his face. Augustine is simultaneously terrified and devastatingly attracted to that terrible, terrible grin. “If tonight was a date, then that means I can do _this_.”

And with that, he tilts Augustine’s chin upward, hovering just inches away from his face as Augustine stares, transfixed. The expression on Lysandre’s face is positively wicked as he dips his head, and Augustine lets out a muffled squeak of shock as he presses his lips to Augustine’s own. Reflexively, he clutches at the front of Lysandre’s shirt to steady himself, and he can feel Lysandre’s other hand coming up to rest on his waist as he deepens the kiss. All too soon, however, Lysandre pulls away, and Augustine definitely does not whimper embarrassingly in protest at the sudden lack of warm lips against his own.

“A good-night kiss to end off our date,” Lysandre says, eyes dancing with mirth. “I’m afraid I must part ways with you here, however. My home lies in the other direction, and as wonderful as you look in my jacket, I’m sure you’d like to get home and into your own clothes once more. You can return the jacket tomorrow, if you’d like. Goodnight, my dear Augustine.”

“G-Goodnight!” he somehow manages to stammer out, barely having the presence of mind to even process what Lysandre is saying. He stands on the street rather for a while, until Lysandre is out of sight, before he realizes he’s been standing there sighing after Lysandre like an idiot where anyone could see. He scurries home as fast as he can after that, fumbling with his keys and practically flinging himself through the door, slamming it and locking it behind him as the darkness immerses him. What…what had even just happened?

If he wears Lysandre’s jacket for just a _little_ bit longer, definitely not smelling the material, well. Lysandre doesn’t have to know. Augustine definitely does _not_ sigh and stare at it wistfully as he slips it off and hangs it on the back of his bedroom door, and definitely does not fall asleep dreaming of Lysandre’s smile, and his laugh, and that _kiss,_ Arceus, yes…

Oh, really, now. Who is he even kidding?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I know nothing about wine, I am aware.
> 
> If you guessed Diantha planned for this to happen, you guessed correctly!


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diantha basks in the success of her masterful plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the short epilogue starring Diantha. Maybe there will be other stories after with other dates Augustine and Lysandre go on? Tell me if you have any ideas!

“So, Augustine, how was your date last night?” Diantha asks innocently.

Augustine nearly spits out his drink. “You!” he gasps, still coughing and sputtering. “You set that all up, didn’t you! The, the wine, and the engagement ring, and, and everything! It was all your doing!”

“Now, now,” she says, wagging a finger at him. “You were the one who accepted the reservations and invited Lysandre along. And Lysandre was the one who decided to offer his jacket to you. You were just so awkward the whole time, my dear, it was very entertaining!”

“You—wha—you were there?!”

“Of course! Portraying one half of a young married-couple-to-be was child’s play. And I needed to make sure the waiters did their jobs correctly, didn’t I?”

“How did I not notice you?!”

“I’m an _actress_ , my dear,” she says haughtily, sticking her nose up in the air for greater effect. “And besides, I rather suspect that you didn’t have any attention left to spare, seeing as how it was all focused on dreamily staring at your handsome _date_.”

Diantha does her best to maintain her ‘snobbish actress’ air, but can’t help breaking out into fits of giggles at the pout on Augustine’s face.

“You’re terrible,” he huffs, crossing his arms and turning his head away from her pointedly.

“But you love me anyway, darling,” she coos, blowing him a kiss.

“So help me, I do,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“So tell me,” she says, leaning in conspiratorially, “how _was_ your date last night? Did you have a good time? Good food? Get a good-night kiss and everything?”

“Diantha!”

“Well, did you?”

“I…well…yes,” Augustine admits, blushing and staring down at his empty plate.

Diantha just barely restrains herself from crowing triumphantly. She’d probably just send Augustine running if she did that, poor dear. He already looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here, at this little café table, being interrogated by her about his ‘hot date’ last night. She’ll let up soon—he probably wants to go see Lysandre, or possibly go back to his flat and daydream about his Pyroar man some more. Still, there’s one more thing she wants to know… “So, was it good, then?”

“ _Diantha!”_

“Well?” Ooh, look at how scandalized he looks. It must have been good, then.

“Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell,” he sniffs.

Diantha stares at him.

Augustine squirms in his seat.

Diantha stares at him some more.

“…Yes,” he says reluctantly.

“That’s wonderful, Augustine, I’m so happy for you two!” she gushes. “Be sure to take Lysandre out on some more dates, then you can tell me _all_ about them. I’d love to stay and chat some more about your fabulous date, believe me, but I really must run, I’m afraid. Say hello to your lion man for me!”

“ _My_ lion man?” Augustine sputters, but by then Diantha is already waving cheerily as she heads out the door.

 _Arceus, finally,_ she thinks as she walks down the street, humming softly to herself. It had been downright _painful_ to watch those two idiots dancing around each other for so long, especially when they’d thought they were being subtle about all their mooning over each other. Idly, she wonders what their next date will be like, and what kind of reaction she’ll get out of Lysandre if she asks. Perhaps she can offer him some suggestions…


End file.
